Don't Tell A Seoul
by Datsamazin
Summary: Impressed by their surgical finesse. Hawkeye and Hot Lips are requested to temporarily assist in Seoul, South Korea. Shortly after returning to base, Hawkeye is struck with a "mysterious malady". Warning for mpreg! Last Chapter up!
1. Major Cheeky I Presume?

**Author's note: I do not own M*A*S*H. Rights and material belong to CBS. Please R&R if you think this story should continue. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

War. A man's game where boys were injured and killed. No one probably knew this better than Chief Army surgeon Benjamin "Hawkeye" Pierce. Despite their reputation for being the best, they still faced casualties. It was the harsh reality of tensions between the Korea's.

"Someone hand me that suction"

Came Hawkeye's somewhat muffled voice behind his surgical mask. Head nurse, Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan, without looking up, proceeds with passing him the instrument. The patient was in dire straits. Bits of shrapnel lodged in his right side. Suffice to say the surgical staff of the 4077 didn't think he'd pull through.

Father Mulcahy passes through, somberly surveying the injured in their beds. He proceeds into the OR area. Bible in hand. All-the-while trying to ready himself for the unfortunate, probable outcome. He had just about neared the table when Trapper let out an abrupt, sharp growl.

"Dammit"

He cursed. In the blink of an eye, their patient's vitals had dropped from stable to nonexistent. Hawkeye could feel his heart sink. He hated this part of the job, however inevitable. He pats John on the back in a hopeful attempt of comfort. Regardless of the occasional petty spat and some differing opinions, their friendship was solid. One could almost say it was an essential, particularly when faced with a surgery not swaying in their favor. An assisting nurse calls time of death.

"He's all yours, Father", Pierce's brisk tone a mix of agitation and contrite. Letting his surgical mask hang lazily around his neck as he once again, rejoins with McIntyre. "C'mon, pal. There's a large martini with your name on it"

* * *

Back at the tent, the skillful surgeon went to work on priming the still. Just as the grain alcohol was about to meet the bottom of a pair of cocktail glasses, the naive and oftentimes officious, Major Frank Burns, came bursting through the front door. Nearly knocking the dartboard off its nail.

"The last thing you two need is _more _alcohol"

Hawkeye spares an irked glance in the bootlicker's direction.

"Frank, I think the last thing **you **need is an emergency proctectomy when they remove my boot from your.."

"Alright, alright, I've got the message". He interjects sheepishly with raised palms as he slowly backs away back out the door. Trapper cracks a grin and chuckles.

"Hey, you think they'll find his license while they're in there?"

The duo exchanged amused looks, inadvertently snorting, before their tent erupted into a fit of laughter. It seemed the floor soaked up more gin than they had. Nonetheless, Hawkeye's mission proved successful. His sidekick was smiling again. They were halfway through their third martini when both Hot Lips and Frank barged in. Typical, he went crying to Houlihan about how "unfairly" he was treated.

"What's the meaning of this?!"

She demanded with a sharp tongue. Burns with his head low, right by her side. Smirking like a proverbial sibling that had just tattled on the other. The men, once more, start chuckling. This is immediately followed by Hawkeye's classic malapert response.

"Well, I tried telling him no but he kept supplying me with alcohol"

"Don't get cheeky with me, Pierce. You know what I'm referring to"

Again, he catches Frank with that unabated satisfied smirk plastered across his face. Suddenly, it was Trapper that decided to reply.

"Funny choice of words. Especially for someone who was showing a lot of cheeky in the supply tent with Major Burns, here"

Hot Lips' eyes go wide and face immediately flushes a rose red with embarrassment. Frank no longer finding the situation amusing. Hawkeye vainly attempting to suppress his laughter. The poorly "secretive" couple stumble over themselves trying to regain a sense of order and failing tremendously.

"You haven't heard the last of this. I'm taking this up with Colonel Blake!"

"_Ooh_.."

Came the feigned, frightened sound in unison. One hand splayed to the side of their face, the other still grasping the glass stem. Frank continuing to remain silent, surprisingly. The pair soon left in a huff, it was unlikely Henry was going to take the matter seriously. If at all. He wasn't exactly a fan of Frank's and found him to be quite unbearable at times. And as much as, well, anyone would care to admit. His surgical skills were vital to the MASH unit.

"Gotta say. Maybe the first time I've envied a supply tent"

Trapper wittily chimes between sips of his martini. Hawkeye gives a low chuckle, his tone reflecting the regret behind the words that soon tumbled from his lips.

"It'll be the first time I've ever envied Frank Burns"


	2. The Decision

Henry Blake, hunched over his desk. Grazing through a catalog of golf balls and 9 irons. Donning his classic _University of Illinois_ sweater and Army green fishing hat, decorated with so many lures it appeared as though it fell into a tackle box.

Corporal Walter "Radar" O'Reilly, ever the dutiful clerk. Came rushing through the door to inform Blake of the couple's impending arrival. He peers up from his desk, looking very much exasperated.

"What is it, Radar?"

His voice a mix of a sighing whine.

"Uh..Major Houlihan 'an Major Burns are on their way to make a complaint, sir. They seem pretty steamed"

"Oh for Pete's sake, Radar. I don't have time for.."

No sooner was he about to finish his agitated-laced sentence when the disruptive duo graced them with their unwanted presence.

"Colonel Blake, I demand swift reprimand for Captain Pierce's actions!"

Came Houlihan's booming voice. Radar frozen by the filing cabinet. Henry rolled his eyes and sighed.

"On what grounds, Major?"

Naturally, Frank acted as Margaret's dummy. Having her speaking through him. Even when the subject was, in fact, about him.

"He told Frank he was going to shove his boot up you-know-where"

Radar makes an awkward, brief noise of disgust. Meanwhile Henry was simply through with their frivolous barrage of complaints on whomever set off Margaret this week. Henry groans.

"Major. I really don't think this' worth the hassle. I mean, who doesn't wanna shove their boot up you, Frank?"

Suddenly the sound of Radar's muffled chuckling could be heard. Margaret was quick to flash him a glance that could bore holes.

"That'll be all, Corporal"

She states sternly. A message for him to leave. Immediately he reverted back to his meek demeanor and made his way out the door. "Yes sir".

"It's ma'am!"

Frank's upper lip finally reappeared as he mustered the courage to speak up against the Colonel.

"Now sir, that isn't fair. I was only looking out for.."

"-What he's trying to say, Colonel. Is that there's no discipline here. You allow those two booze hounds into surgery"

Truth be told, Blake didn't hear half of what was said. After awhile it was like radio static. He sighed once again and rubbed the temples of his forehead. The only way he saw in rectifying this and getting them, specifically her, out of his hair. Was to lie.

"I'll have a word with him. Now can I get back to my work, please?"

The couple's smug expressions soon return to their faces, not realizing it was all for show. Just as Frank was about to answer. His handler stopped him and, per usual, took the reins.

"Thank you, sir"

"_Hmm_"

Henry responded non-verbally. Those two really knew how to get under his skin. He had enough to contend with, without the added stress of their nonsense. Just when he thought he could finally get back to his catalog, Radar reemerges with another notification.

"Sir, General Clayton's here to see you"

He continues flipping through the catalog. His patience for constant interruptions wearing paper thin.

"Radar, you know not to bother me again unless it's a visit from General Clayton"

After a matter of seconds it finally registered and he began to panic. Hastily tossing the golf book in the drawer and briefly tidying the chaos on his desk. Once again, the agitation returned to his voice.

"Well don't just have him sittin' out there, Radar! Tell him to come in"

The young man instantly snaps back to reality from his seemingly fleeting trance. "Yes sir", he responds timidly and rushes out to tell him. Clad in his usual olive green military fatigue, the older General enters the room.

"And what may I owe this totally unexpected, yet welcome visit, General?"

Henry inquired coupled with a nervous laugh. The Top Brass was never one for small talk and merely having to converse with Blake face to face was more than he could stand.

"I'll get straight to the point, Henry (clears his throat). Your surgeons, Houlihan and Pierce, caught the attention of the higher-ups in Seoul. They've requested you relinquish them to assist in a small military base hospital there. About a month, tops. Until they can find the adequate help needed"

Henry's eyes began to erratically blink as he stutters to give a response.

"Well, uh, sir. This' quite an honor. But what's the 4077 gonna do without our two best surgeons?"

The General briefly scratches underneath his jawline.

"We'll be sending our best as proxy for the time being. We'll need word by 2400 hours. By the way, where is Margaret?"

Henry's nervous chuckle returns. It wasn't a secret Clayton was rather infatuated with her. Quite frankly, so was the rest of the base.

"Ya just missed her. But I'll pass along the message.."

"-And to Pierce" Clayton added abruptly.

"And to Pierce" Henry reiterated with that goofy expression plastered across his face. The General tipped his hat before briefly thanking the inept Colonel and departing out the office.

Henry watches carefully as the General disappears from sight to pull his catalog from its hiding place. Just as he was about to resume thumbing through the pages, Hawkeye enters.

"Henry, what's this about me 'an Hot Lips being sent to Seoul?"

The Colonel gives a disgruntled sigh, only this time, refusing to cast aside the mag.

"Clayton was in 'an apparently you two impressed the top monkeys in Seoul that they've asked for your help for a month"

"A month?!"

Hawkeye exclaimed astounded. Henry shut his eyes for a couple seconds, as if the abrupt, raised voice hurt his ears. He continues grazing over the pages.

"That's what he said. They'll send skilled temps to take over here, don't worry. And they'll need to know by 2400 hours. Whatever that means"

"That's midnight, sir"

A meek voice responded from somewhere in the office.

"Thanks, Radar. Well, there ya have it. I'll need a decision soon so I know what to tell Clayton"

Pierce shakes his head lightly and makes his way out the door. As much as he was somewhat set against it. He never was one to shy away from helping the already war torn South Koreans. He finds Margaret alone in the surgical scrub room and informs her of the news.

* * *

"A month?!"

Her voice a mix of the same shock and abruptness as his. He nods his head and expression morphs into playfully seductive with an arched brow.

"A whole 30 days together, Ms. Houlihan. Maybe we can even share accommodations"

"You animal! That's all you ever think about"

Hawkeye feigns being offended and splays his fingers dramatically across his chest.

"Certainly not! I also happen to care about women's inner beauty (gives a mischievous wink). Besides, it's the right thing to do. If we can help them more, wouldn't you want to?"

He takes her gloved hands in his and peers deeply into those magnificent blue eyes. She hesitates a moment. Shutting her eyes briefly before letting out a sharp sigh.

"Okay, let's do it"


	3. Seoul Bound & Burn(s)ed Out

"I'm not gonna see ya for 'ah whole month?!"

Trapper's words came tumbling out, a cumulation of shock, and dolefulness. His inflection, however inadvertent. Of course he was happy for Hawk, it spoke volumes of his capabilities as a surgeon. Yet, there was that fickle, nagging portion of his brain. A portion that reeked of envy. He would never come out and fully admit to this. But that little green-eyed monster planted seeds of doubt in his head, questioning his own skills. But, not a time to wallow in self pity.

"Don't worry, I'm comin' back. You can steal Radar's teddy bear in absence of my extraordinary intimacy"

Just the sheer corniness in the statement alone had Pierce chuckling to himself. Trap is quick to follow as he feels the corners of his mouth give way to a grin.

"'An have that three foot ankle bitter go after me? I don't think so"

Once again, Hawkeye was unable to keep the hysterics at bay. Making his way over to his cot, before letting his body decide for him and plops down heavily on the edge. His ketchup red robe, enveloping his legs like some sort of wonderful, cotton-like cloud. Trapper finds his unnecessary jealousy slowly quelling.

Taking liberty and priming their faithful still. Just as things were starting to get underway, Frank appears. A smile as big as you please, either he just got laid, or Hot Lips broke the news to him. And Hawkeye would bet an his entire $300 poker win, that it was the latter.

"Well, well, well. Seems you're going bye-bye for awhile"

His expression really ringing true with his childhood nickname of "F_erret Face_".

"Will ya lay off 'im, Frank?"

Trapper snaps. Pierce simply smiles whilst holding his cocktail glass out in preparation for McIntyre to pour.

"Don't worry, Trap. His parents surrendered him to gypsies. Not his fault"

Suddenly Frank drew in both lips as if he had just eaten a lemon. His eyes comically going wide.

"How dare you speak of my dear mother that way! You monster!"

He then swiftly proceeds in dramatically throwing himself onto his cot. Rolling over so his back was facing the men and like some sort of praying mantis/human hybrid, hands shoot out to snatch and subsequently, to cradle, the sterling silver picture frame containing a photo of his beloved mother.

"There, there, mommy. They didn't mean it, honest"

He spoke, as if trying to calm a child. Fingers disturbingly brushing over the frame in a petting motion reserved for dogs. The duo exchange perplexed and humored looks.

"Even she doesn't want to listen to you, Frank. That's why she's behind a 2.0 milometer panel of glass"

"Oh, go suck an egg wise guy!"

He rebuked in a whiny manner, throwing the moss colored blanket over his head to sulk.

"Poor 'lil fella must be cranky. Had 'tah do a whole four hours of meatball surgery without his baba"

Hawkeye gives a hearty laugh as the dynamic duo clink their glasses in a final goodbye toast.

* * *

There Margaret sat. In front of her small vanity mirror, brushing her sandy blonde hair. Trying to amp herself up to the fact that within less than an hour, she would be in an even more chaotic world than the one she was in currently. Just as she was about to reach for her cherry red lipstick, there was a set of three knocks at the door. She sighs.

"Who is it?"

She calls out in a somewhat irritable tone.

"It's me, sugar face"

Another one of Frank's nauseatingly cheesy "_terms of endearment_". Once again, she finds herself sighing.

"Come in, Frank"

Setting her brush down, she continues to look into the mirror, even though the blundering surgeon had already entered the tent.

"Margaret, please don't go (he whines), not with that delinquent"

His expression morphs into a pout and he begins to lightly wrap his arms around her from behind. She groans in annoyance before reaching for the hairbrush a second time.

"I have a headache, Frank"

"I'm not here for _that_. Besides, Louise's jawline isn't nearly as manly as yours"

Margaret's eyes immediately morph into saucers, mouth agape in stunned silence. She was almost certain she could see the faint traces of smoke billowing from her ears.

"**GET OUT**!"

Next thing he knew he was dodging a collision with an eyelash curler to the face.

"But sweetums.. you won't believe what Pierce said about my m.."

"**OUT**!"

"Going", the timorous voice trails, scurrying out the door as fast as his puny legs could carry him.

She does one final check of her bags. Making sure she had an adequate amount of clothing, toiletries and other supplies to last her throughout the entire 30 days. She hears the Jeep idling rather loudly outside her tent. Giving a small smile as she surveys her quarters for a final time before departing.

* * *

"Your chariot awaits, madam"

Hawkeye quips as she nears the vehicle. Acting quickly to help put her things in the back. She climbs aboard the passenger side, suddenly realizing they had a farewell crowd see them off. They wave their final goodbyes, Radar bustles his way into the lines of people, placing himself beside Henry.

"Bye, sirs!"

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and waves. "Bye, Radar" Hawkeye calls out before putting the Army vehicle into drive and leaving the base in a plume of dust. The surgeon and nurse exchange small smiles, reality was sinking in fast now. But she hadn't regretted anything. Underneath her oftentimes gruff exterior. She had a soft side.

"Ya think you'll be able to stand bein' around me this long?"

Pierce cracks lightheartedly. She chuckles and attempts to control her wind blown hair with an old rubber band that had long since lost its elasticity.

"No, but like with Frank's warts in cold weather. I'll adapt"


	4. The Conception

The journey seemed arduous, dusty dirt roads, hidden snipers, checkpoints, but the couple had finally arrived at the base hospital. It was no different from home, really. People running about like chickens with their heads cut off. A Korean man, donning a slightly blood-stained, white surgical gown and cap, rushes over to greet the Major and Captain .

"So glad you 'wo could make it. I'm Jii Yun, Lieu'enant Colonel of 'is mad'ouse"

Both Pierce and Houlihan were quite shocked, his English may have been a bit broken, and the accent discernible. But at least he was capable of carrying on a conversation rather fluently. Then again, this didn't come as a complete surprise.

For some surgeons, especially Lieutenants, it was a key component during their draft to become acquainted with the language. They treated wounded US soldiers, as well as their own. Same could be said for the 4077 concerning Korean, although, with Henry at the helm, it was a bit more lax. Hawkeye smiles and extends his hand to shake his.

"We're quite used to it, Jii. Unfortunately Truman hasn't called off the war yet"

The Korean man chuckled and tucked the stray bits of black hair back underneath his medical cap. He then directs them to the station to scrub in and change into their surgical garments.

"We'll 'eal with de paperwork, later"

He informs them, quickly signaling to one of the nurses to grab their gowns and masks. And like that, he disappeared somewhere in the chaos. Pierce could hear Hot Lips let out a frustrated growl.

"You'd think they could at least let us unpack our things before we get elbow deep in organs"

Suddenly a young woman appeared and handed the Doctors their scrubs, masks, and gloves before hastily departing. Head down, not saying a word. A somewhat mischievous smirk soon found its way onto the Captain's face.

"I'm sure they would be most grateful to have you handling their organs"

A look of disgust soon washed over her as she let out a sudden gasp. This is immediately followed by a slap across the arm with her latex glove. The muggy air hung with the unpleasant aroma of blood, sweet and metallic. To Hawkeye, they were just trading in one Hell for another. He also wanted to remind her this wasn't the Hotel Ritz, but it was probably more wise to keep his thoughts to himself and save her the added misery.

They had just finished dressing and making their way to the surgical area when a shell exploded, some 400 feet from the base hospital. This igniting cries of panic from the staff, overhead lighting swayed violently. The sheer force had knocked Margaret clear off her feet. Fortunately, Hawkeye was there to catch her in his gloved hands.

"Uh, thank you"

She spoke almost breathlessly. He gives a small smile and helps her steady herself once again.

"Don't mention it. But you know, this now means no objections to shared accommodations"

* * *

Back at the 4077 base, Frank was obnoxiously relishing his newfound freedom away from at least one of his two tormentors. However, his feelings were perplexing in its conflict. As there was a small, dark cloud that hovered over him in the wake of Margaret's absence. With his mind still off elsewhere, preoccupied with what his mistress Major was doing. He was so distracted, in fact, he very nearly nicked his patient's pulmonary artery.

"Jesus, Frank! Pay attention 'tah what yer doin'!

Trap's voice boomed in anger. Catching a concerned and disproving look from Father Mulchahy.

"Eh, sorry, Father"

He uttered in a low tone, sheepishly. The Reverend nodded, that sweet, understanding smile reappearing.

"It's quite alright, my son"

Suddenly, Henry pipes up. This being a welcome relief from the tension between Trap and Frank.

"When do ya think Brass is sendin' out those replacements?!"

Trapper shrugs and continues focusing on retrieving the bits of metal from his patient like some sort of laboratory frog dissection. Just then, Frank let's out a sharp scoff. As to let those around drop what they're doing and listen to his "worldly insight".

"Replacements, _phff_t..what a joke. They don't think we're qualified enough?"

Trapper catches as Henry rolls his eyes at the statement. The gin aficionado chuckles before wiping the bit of sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.

"Frank, in yer case. You should be used 'tah hearin' you're not qualified enough"

* * *

It was nearing nightfall at the Seoul base and suffice to say, the couple were both physically and mentally exhausted. So much so, in fact, Margaret didn't even put up a fight when discovering she would have to room with the playboy surgeon until her own accommodations were ready the following morning.

"_Ugh_"

She groans, falling onto the olive green cot in a helpless heap. " And don't you try anything" she forewarns, exerting what was the last of her sharp tongue for the evening. The Captain gives a rather impish smirk and chuckles.

Reaching into one of his bags and producing a small, glass bottle of the nurse's favorite brandy. He lets out a dramatic sigh to catch her attention.

"Guess this means I'll have to drink this brandy alone. Wasn't easy to come by, either"

This immediately caught her attention. Hook, line, and sinker. She immediately fixes her hair and clears her throat.

"You, uh, you wouldn't mind sharing would you?"

"I thought you'd never ask"

* * *

The sound of a poorly played bugle jolted her awake in the early morning hours. Her head was pounding, noise was like torture. But if that wasn't bad enough, she discovered she only was draped in an itchy woolen cot blanket. She glances over at the clump of black hair on the pillow facing her, she let's out a barely audible gasp.

"Oh, my God! I slept with Pierce!"


	5. Gin Crummy

It was hard to believe, but their 30 days had come to a close. And not a moment too soon, Trapper was ready to surrender Frank to North Korea. How he made it a month without his partner in crime to partake in tormenting Burns he'd never know.

The surgeon was relaxed in his chair, sipping from his martini glass and grazing through a Field & Stream magazine. Every so often he'd hear Frank's weird, almost high-pitched giggle coming from his cot. Sighing, he sets the book down and shoots him an irritated glance.

"I'm glad ya finally learned how to aim, Frank. But ya mind doin' that somewhere else?"

He immediately drops the photo of Hot Lips he didn't think Trapper had seen. Lips forming an almost pout of sorts, chin disappearing and sparse brows knitting together to all encompass his piqued expression.

"You're not as funny as you think you are, mister. Just wait till Major Houlihan returns.."

"-I know, Frank. So you two can work on yer "mouth to mouth" "

He chuckles and resumes burying his head in his magazine, Frank meanwhile silently fuming.

* * *

Hawkeye and Margaret give their final goodbyes to the staff and surgeons of the Seoul base before their long Jeep trek back home. He hadn't said anything to Hot Lips, but for the past week he'd been feeling _off_. Sure, he could chalk it up to the overall surroundings, unrelenting demands, and high stress, but this seemed different somehow. Hell, more often than not he felt hungover, even when he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol.

"Are you okay?"

She asks from the driver's side. The rural dirt road with its unsuspecting dips and bumps would no doubt ensure the military vehicle need an interior cleaning in the end. He closes his eyes and attempts keeping the bile from rising any further. Exhaling deeply he nods his head in reply.

"Hey, they're back!"

Radar informs Frank and Trap with an almost animated inflection in his voice. The vertically-challenged clerk rushed back out the door. Trapper mumbling a "_thank god_" to himself whilst Frank acted like a lovesick puppy. The 4077's cross-dressing Corporal, Maxwell Klinger, bypassed the Swamp tent. Dressed to the nine in a frilly white number with pale pink pearls. His numerous attempts at procuring a Section 8 discharge, sadly, had all been in vain. Nevertheless, his daring ensembles always seemed to garner him quite a crowd.

"You comin' out to see 'em, sir?"

The Lebanese Ohian inquired, poking his head through the doorway, looking in Trap's direction. The Captain chuckles a bit and sets his reading material aside.

"Be there in 'ah sec. Lookin' good, Klinger"

Creases at the corners of Klinger's eyes deepened, smiling at the compliment given.

"Thank you, sir"

Trap briskly walks out to the Jeep to assist with baggage. Burns wasted no time in taking Hot Lips into his punny arms, which naturally was swiftly rebuffed in public.

"Ah, Trap. Haven't missed me too much I hope"

The two Captains exchange a smile and laugh.

"Radar's bear was great n all. But no substitute for the real thing"

They finish carrying the rest of Hawkeye's things back to the tent. Frank is nowhere in sight. Which only meant one thing, he was with Hot Lips, preoccupied. Trapper turns to ready a couple martini glasses for the both of them.

Pierce collapsing onto his cot. Never in a million years would he think his own paltry line of canvas would feel like heaven at that moment. "Oh, how I've missed you" his words being muffled, with him face-down into his pillow. Trap chuckles and hands him a glass.

"It missed ya too, Hawk. I think I even saw it tryin' to suffocate Frank last week"

The men once again erupt into laughter. He felt like he hadn't had a good laugh like this in the whole 30 days, it was almost therapeutic. Just as Pierce brought the glass to his lips, the smell of gin assaulted his nostrils. Trap instantly takes notice of his friend's sudden pale hue. The glass falling to the floor and his hand flying over his mouth.

"Hawk, you alright?"

He was barely able to even get the words out he was so worried. Trap could've sworn he muttered something about the "latrine", before racing out of the tent. Very nearly colliding with Frank and Hot Lips along the way.

"Hey, watch it, buddy!"

Frank yells after him. Naturally this goes ignored. He turns to Margaret and hooks a thumb towards the latrine with a light snort.

"What was all that about?"

His nuance riddled with its usual smugness. One thing stood out in Margaret's head. "_No, it couldn't be_" she told herself. As if somehow it would convince her. She lightly shrugs her shoulders.

"It's probably just stress, Frank. Leave him be"

He straightens up almost instantly, giving an almost indignant sniff.

"Oh, now you're on his side. What happened to you while you were over there?"

This question struck fear into her heart. Of course he hadn't a clue the two had drunkenly slept together. But if her suspicions were correct, Frank would undoubtedly start putting the pieces together eventually. She exhales shakily.

"Nothing happened, Frank. Let it go"

* * *

That night she slipped out of her tent and made her way over to theirs. Frank, thankfully was fast asleep. His mouth twitching and incoherently mumbling things about his mother. Trap was passed out in a chair next to the still, and Hawkeye on his cot.

Taking notice of the stainless steel bucket on the floor beside it. She carefully kneels down and was about to try and gently wake him until accidentally hitting the pail with her foot and stirring him awake.

"Wha.. what's goin' on?"

He jolted awake, slightly disoriented. She brought a finger to her lips.

"_Shhh_..it's just me"

She whispered. He raises a brow in a playfully lascivious manner.

" Hmm.. coming back for more?"

This earned him a smack on the arm.

"No! Just listen...(she began in an exasperated tone still at a whisper) I think Frank is beginning to suspect something. I have to ask. Are you carrying my child?"

In a completely unforeseen turn of events. He chuckles, before turning his back to face her and laying back down.

"Hot Lips, with all due respect. I think the war is making you hallucinate"


	6. Pierce's Prognosis

"_Incoming wounded. All personnel report to the O.R., immediately"_

Radar's introverted, awkward, yet oddly assertive-like cadence rung from the PA system throughout the entire base. It had been several weeks since Hot Lips came to him in the middle of the night with her rather outlandish suspicions.

And at this point in time, even he had to admit- something was awry. Not only did he have the god-awful nausea to contend with. Fatigue and heartburn were also being tossed into the ring.

"C'mon, Hawk. You heard the munchkin, up 'an at 'em"

Trapper attempted to rouse his exhausted friend with a light push on the shoulder. This, in turn, earned him a groan of discontent and something that sounded an awful lot like "[_explicit_] you".

"Can ya just tell our patients to not get injured?"

He gave a slightly muffled whinny complaint, simultaneously wrapping his blanket tighter around him and closing off the rest of the world. Trapper sighs, he didn't want it to come to this. But it was the only guaranteed way he'd get out of bed.

Hurrying over, he grabbed a martini glass still filled with gin. He then makes his way around Hawkeye's cot so they're now facing each other. Trapper then proceeded in waving the glass within smelling range with a fluid motion of his wrist. Immediately, the poor surgeon's eyes spring open and he makes a mad dash for the latrine.

* * *

"Pierce, will ya pass me those clamps?"

Henry inquired, his focus never straying from the young, battered man on the table. He gives an agitated groan and slips the bumbling Colonel the instrument. A bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, eliciting the most Irritating sensation from his skin's receptors.

An older nurse of Hot Lips' cavalry, pats the sweat away with a small sponge. Before long, Hawkeye was beginning to feel oddly light-headed. He stops for a moment, shutting his eyes and trying to calm himself through breathing exercise.

"What's wrong, Pierce? Did you forget how to operate?"

Frank cracked, this is immediately followed by his weasel-like snickering. Pierce was about to shoot the exhibitionist Major a death glare. He no sooner got a single word out before his vision started getting fuzzy, and it was lights out.

* * *

"Hey.. you're back!"

Henry and Trap exclaim in unison. The mix of both joy and relief, splashed with a hint of fear, trailed on their breath. The Captain blinks slowly, attempting to adjust his sight.

"What happened?"

He asks in a somewhat disoriented, weary voice. Finding some gratefulness that his vision was steadily coming around. He notices Margaret towards the back looking concerned.

"Ya passed out, pal"

Trapper supplied with a pat on the shoulder. He found the whole situation rather odd. In his whole 37 years, he couldn't recollect a single time he fainted. Hot Lips hurries over to the foot of the bed.

"Is everything okay?"

Her bright blue eyes wide, as if her only purpose at that point in time was to hang on to his every word. Alright, now there was no denying it, he was transported to some nonsensical, parallel universe. The Old War Horse had never shown this level of humanity, at least towards him. He nods his head in reply.

Suddenly, Frank appears out of nowhere. Brandishing his lowly index finger in her face. Naturally this gesture did not set well with her. Without warning, his voice booms out.

"I knew it! I knew something was going on between you two"

"Frank, I've told you a thousand-"

"Okay, can everyone just shut the Hell up for a second?!"

Henry cut the bickering couple off. He gives a heavy sigh and his tone shifts.

"Pierce..I think I know what's goin' on"

Blake momentarily glancing at Hawkeye. McIntyre couldn't help but chuckle at this.

"Henry, you thought a World War 2 surplus map was the layout of a Korean minefield and nearly had me blown up. So maybe you oughta.."

"Trap, just hear him out, alright?"

This time, it was Hawkeye to interject. Accompanied by an exasperated and stern undertone. Trapper's grin falls and clears his throat.

"Sorry, Hawk"

Came a rather sheepish response. Henry suddenly appeared unusually anxious, his attention on the floor. He too, cleared his throat. Requesting that everyone leave the area to give him and the star surgeon some space for a minute. They oblige and make their way out of the room. Pierce couldn't help but notice Hot Lips' lingering glances as she was leaving. Almost as if he were going to die if she wasn't present.

"So what's this all about, Henry?"

He could feel a corner of his mouth give way to a crooked smile. Whatever Henry wanted to talk to him about, he was sure it would be nothing short of pure entertainment. The Colonel proceeds in clearing his throat, once again. It was as though someone asked him to give a lecture on sex. And everyone knew how awful he was at it. He rubs the back of his neck nervously.

"So, uh...I, uh..I don't know exactly how to break this to you.."

The young man arches a brow confoundedly, chuckling lightly.

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow, Henry. Break _what_ to me?"

Even he had to admit, this was starting to worry him. Was he really dying and Henry just didn't know how to convey it? Henry chuckles a bit and sits on the edge of Pierce's bed. His stark white surgical mask, hanging lazily around his neck.

"Well, Pierce..you see, ah. When a man and a wo-"

"-Henry, I don't need a biology course. Just lay it on me.. What?!"

Margaret observes the happenings from a gap in one of the thick, white dividing curtains.

"Well, you're, uh..you're..pregnant"

Before Hawkeye even had time to process what he was told, both men hear a rather loud _thud_. The presence of light blonde hair could be seen, splayed unruly underneath the curtain's bottom. The news had apparently sent Hot Lips into a fainting spell as well.


	7. Dear Dad: The Secret's Out

"Oh good, you're awake"

Henry stated in a rather nervous and awkward inflection. Margaret slowly looked around, realizing, she too, was in a cold, cast iron Army bed with sub-par sheets. It took a moment or two to collect herself before she could speak.

"What happened?"

Her voice fairly groggy. Henry couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

"Ya passed out, Major. But you should be good to go now"

"You can say that again"

She hears one of Hawkeye's many suggestive nuances. She scoffs in disgust and looks over to see she's been placed in the bed right next to his.

"C'mon, Major. It'll be just like in Seoul all over ag-"

"Pierce, enough!"

She snapped. Cutting him off whilst he simultaneously patted the bed, in yet another one of his not-so-subtle innuendos. Margaret throws the blanket off her legs and springs from the bed. Henry appearing a bit intrigued.

"Soo, what *did* go on in Seoul between yo-"

"-Nothing, nothing happened!"

Again, she was quick to stonewall any mention made of Seoul. However, she knew this would be just a fruitless effort. Henry already deduced Hawkeye was pregnant. Even for him, it wouldn't require much brainpower to connect the two. And Frank was already a little too suspicious. She quickly tidies her hair and leaves to resume her duties.

"Well, that was somethin' "

The older man stated. Obvious confusion bordering his words. He, once again, finds himself seated at the edge of Hawkeye's bed. Awkward chuckling escapes him.

"I'm not tryin' to meddle in your affairs, Pierce. But the way she acted got me wonderin'. Almost like she's the baby's mother"

This alone nearly had the poor Captain choking on his saliva. He was not prepared for something of that magnitude coming from Blake. It all became real to him, this wasn't just a figment of Hot Lips' vivid imagination. He was carrying her child. He shuts his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply, before he could continue with any further conversation.

"Actually, Henry.. that's because she *is* the baby's mother. (Deep sigh) it happened during our stay in Seoul. I'm relying on your discretion"

Henry's eyes nearly bulged from his skull. Tripping over his words as he made every attempt possible to answer coherently.

"Ah, yes, of course.. only reason I ever came to the conclusion were the telltale signs. Jane 'an Molly weren't so bad, but Andrew? Gee whiz, that boy was nearly the death of me"

Hawkeye looked down at his wool blanket, in vain, to hide the obvious look of amusement plastered across his face.

"Ah, yes. I believe your water broke during that emergency tracheotomy. Frank played hero trying to cover for you, nearly killed the poor kid"

This earned him a chuckle or two from Blake.

"If it wasn't for you and McIntyre's quick thinking, probably would've. (his tone shifts to a more serious inflection) Now, Pierce. I expect you to not work yourself too raged. You've got another little Captain to think about"

_Another little Captain_. Those words rang in his head like old church bells. It suddenly wasn't just about him anymore. No more boozing it up with Trapper and wild nights with spotty details. At least, not for the next seven months that is.

"I don't suppose this' enough to send me home is it?"

Blake cracks a crooked smile. Shakes his head, and laughs lightly.

"Sorry, Pierce. If it were they would've sent me home to have my son. That's Brass for ya. Expecting you to fulfill your surgeries, even when you're in labor"

* * *

"Yo..you're havin' a baby?!"

Trapper's face lit up like a Christmas tree, back at the Swamp. Hawkeye immediately throws up the palms of his hands.

"Yeah, but keep it down. I think Frank is catchin' on"

Suddenly, the sound of their tent door opening nearly gave Pierce a coronary.

"I'm catchin' on to what?"

Both men's eyes went wide with panic. He only prayed Frank wasn't within earshot when the baby bomb was dropped. They slowly turn around.

"Ah.. Catchin' on tah the fact you're 'ah good lookin' man, Frank"

Trapper could feel his soul instantly vacate his body upon uttering such a nauseating line of BS. Frank's expression instantly morphed into his classic smugness. Almost dopey-looking.

"About time you two realized my greatness. Mother always told me, and now everyone else sees it"

This is immediately followed by another one of his odd, high-pitched giggles of delight. He gives one last pompous, thin-lipped smile, turns heel and leaves right back out the door. Hawkeye could feel the bile stinging at his throat, he wasn't sure if it was morning sickness creeping back up again, or the boldfaced lie to one of his mortal enemies. It was probably the latter, he swallows hard.

"Gotta hand it to ya, Trap. I would've puked had I been the one to feed him that line of garbage"

Trapper breaks into a grin and laughs.

"Hell, I very nearly did 'an I'm not even the one pregnant"

* * *

It was approaching nightfall when Hawkeye finally decided to pen his father with the news. Frank was out and Trapper was fast asleep, he sighs.

_"Dear Dad,_

_I didn't think I'd be writing you this particular letter. However, I just found out hours earlier, so don't take it personally. In about 7 months time, you're going to be a grandpa. Unfortunately, it seems even pregnancy doesn't ensure your ticket home. But don't worry, the little one will be safe and sound until we return to Crabapple.  
_

_Love, Hawkeye"_

He smiles fondly at the note, folding in the middle and placing it on the small table, next to the still. Peering down at his stomach, that despite being around two months along. Was still rather toned. He runs a hand gently over it, that warm smile never wavering. Speaking barely above a whisper.

"It's time for all little Captains to get some rest"

With that, he gingerly crawls into his cot and within a matter of minutes, was out like a light. Frank finally returned about an hour later, his intentions were to simply get some much needed sleep. That was until a certain personal note piqued his curiosity.

"Hello, what's this?"

Keeping his smarmy, obnoxious voice low as to not wake Pierce. He carefully plucks the piece of folded paper, eyes giddily scanning the small group of graphite-lined text. He very nearly let's out a gasp. In combination of both shock and reveling in the fact he stumbled across such a sensational bit of MASH unit fodder.

"Oh, Pierce. Now I know your dirty little secret"


	8. Cookies & Condiments

"Ar..are you sure about this, sir?"

Radar stammered briefly. With Klinger to his right, the two were honed in on Frank's canard surrounding Hawkeye's pregnancy.

"Of course I am. Everyone knows what a skirt-chasing slag Pierce is-"

"Sir, this isn't right, (Klinger interjected) I agree with Radar. We don't know the actual story"

Frank's expression quickly morphs into crossed.

"And who asked you? I'm tellin' ya. That bastard child was probably conceived out of an orgy. God only knows who the mother is"

Just then, Hot Lips was making her way across the mess hall when she happened upon the tail end of Frank's _idle gossip_. "_Why, that weaselly little scumbag"_ she growled under her breath. Biting her lower lip, she peered down at the currently empty stainless steel tray in her hands, a quick glance at Frank and chucks the hunk of metal towards his head. Nearly missing it by a couple inches.

"What the Hell?!"

Frank exclaimed, his whiny-like cadence ringing out. The two exchange looks across the hall. Though, suffice to say, his was a bit more perplexed and terrified.

"Major Burns, a word, please"

Both Klinger and Radar couldn't help but chuckle at Frank's predicament. Tailing Houlihan like a guilty dog, he quickly flashes the Corporal and clerk a dirty look. Rader pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before turning to Klinger.

"What do ya think that was about?"

The proboscis crossdresser shrugs.

"Who knows, kid. Hey, let's get to the chow before the flies do"

* * *

"Honey hips, what's this about?"

Burns whined like a petulant child. The two convene in her tent, she does a final sweep to make sure her door was, in fact, closed. She sighs heavily, loosely folding her arms and leaning against a far wall for support.

"What this is about, Frank. Is the unfounded gossip you're spreading concerning Pierce"

His eyes immediately start narrowing to coincide with a high-pitched giggle.

"Who said it was unfounded? The entire base knows he sleeps around. Is it so improbable to assume the mother of his child could be your entire Nurse Corps?! Hell, maybe even the commies! You know how sneaky those dog-breath kinks are"

Margaret simply rolls her eyes. There was no point in interrupting whilst Frank was on one of his many anti-Korean tangents. As extreme and militant as they were. She gives another heavy sigh.

"Yes, Frank.. It is improbable"

She finally spoke. A pang of tension behind her words. He cocked a sparsely haired brow, a breathy-like "Ha" escapes his lips in an incredulous fashion.

"How so, Margaret? Don't tell me you're the mother.."

He notices immediately as her expression shifts even more seriously than it had before. Frank's face drops, he could feel his heart start to free-fall and subsequently shatter. He wanted to speak, oh, did he ever. But the words wouldn't come out. Margaret exhales shakily.

"It was an accident. This wasn't supposed to-"

"-Oh, spare me the sob story. Just wait till I get my hands on him"

He turns in a huff to leave, but not before Hot Lips plants an effective word of forewarning.

"You so much as lay a finger on him, Frank. And Colonel Blake will have two new balls to practice his putting"

Suddenly the Major wasn't as tough as he would've liked to appear. He swallowed nervously and exited the tent. Perhaps his gossiping had quelled, and he heeded Hot Lips' threat of his manhood. Nevertheless, this didn't mean he was done with Pierce. Whatever it was, however long it took. He would get his just desserts in the end.

* * *

Where the time went was anyone's guess. The 4077's top surgeon was now well into his second trimester at nearly six months. At this stage, it wasn't quite as easy to disregard his once toned stomach. Thankfully, the morning sickness had dissipated. Unfortunately, this didn't mean he was spared. His ankles would swell if he stood for too long, off-the-wall cravings that had Trapper curl his upper lip in disgust, and he felt as though he'd have to put up a second address at the latrine.

"Hawk, that's truly disgustin'"

Trapper remarked, the words drowning in revulsion as he watched his friend smother an Oreo in ketchup and pop it in his mouth. Pierce chuckled a bit and wiped the stray bit of sauce from his face with the back of his sleeve.

"I know. Can't be my kid, their palate isn't nearly as refined"

The men share in a bit of a laugh. Despite, of course, the entire base now being aware of his condition. Thankfully, pretty much everything remained the same. He figured Frank had long stumbled across this little_ miracle_. But was rather surprised with how the soulless nuisance hadn't made a single liverish dig. As pleasant as this was, it was also the most concerning. He and Hot Lips carried on as normal, well, as normal as it could be.

"Where ya gonna put the kid?"

Trapper suddenly inquires as he makes his way over to the still to pour himself a drink. Sure, might have been in poor taste to drink in front of his pregnant friend. But there was no reason he had to stay dry. Hawkeye plops down on the edge of his cot with a sigh. Drowning another poor cookie in the red, sugary condiment.

"Well Christmas is only three months away. With any luck, Santa will grant my wish and Frank will move out"

Trapper laughs.

"Hawk, I think 'hose pregnancy hormones are makin' ya lose touch with reality"

"To be fair, Trap. Anything concerning Frank is a lost sense of reality"

Just as the pregnant Captain was about to delve into his third chocolate wafer treat, and Trap on his second martini. Did the lovely sound of "_Incoming Wounded!_" permeate their ear canals. Pierce sighs and quickly disposes of the confection before he and Trap make their way to the O.R. He briefly peers down at his stomach, hand gingerly patting the area his child was nestled and lets out a soft chuckle.

"And you let daddy operate in peace. No ketchup Oreos for at least five hours"


	9. Sloshed Lips

**This chapter is somewhat shorter in contrast to the rest, but I hope its enjoyable. Also, my knowledge of poker is very poor, I apologize. Please R&R!**

* * *

"How ya doin', kid?"

Hawkeye asked his patient, warmly. The teen's eyes slowly flickered open. He roughly clears his throat.

"Pretty good, considering"

He jests with a half smile, his voice weakened. The surgeon then takes notice as the young man's eyes lazily travel to land upon his stomach.

"If you don't mind me askin', Doc. When are ya due?"

Hawkeye chuckles softly, his hand rubbing the side where the baby had shifted.

"Around early January, but may very well arrive on Christmas"

"My sister was a Christmas baby. Dad had her on the way to the hospital"

Hawkeye chuckles lightly once again. The story had its own unique sense of endearing and charm.

"Yep, that's the thing about babies. They're full of surprises"

* * *

Back at the Swamp, the father-to-be was finally able to unwind. Hours of being wrist-deep in organs, on his feet with barely any breaks was truly both mentally and physically exhausting. Especially considering the additional weight that pregnancy put on him. He sighs and grabs for the Oreos, this time completely omitting the ketchup.

"You up for a bit of poker in 'ah bit?"

Trapper inquired with a gleam in his eye. Hawkeye smirked and finished the rest of the cookie.

"As long as I get to bring my cookies, and everyone's okay with me bringin' the latrine in here, then sure"

The men soon had a small group compiled in the Swamp. This comprised of Radar, Klinger, Sargeant Zale, Trapper and himself. It'd been awhile since he enjoyed a good, old fashioned poker night. Would it have been better with gin? Naturally, but thankfully his abstinence lifestyle was only temporary for a few more months.

"Holy cow! Is this a good card?"

Radar's eyes lit up as he attempted to turn his cards towards Hawkeye. He gives a low chuckle and lightly pushes them back towards the Corporal as to not risk showing everyone seeing what he was playing with.

"Most important rule of poker, Radar. Never show your hand, but yes. That's very good"

Suddenly, there was a low grumble from where Klinger had been sitting. Eyes giving one final scan of the fan of cards before him.

"Eh, I fold"

The Lebanese man groused, before tossing down a 7 of Clubs, 4 of Diamonds, 3 of Spades, and 2 of Hearts. "_Ooohh_" Hawkeye uttered in a pained-like tone, complete with an expression liken to biting into a lemon.

"Well, it was 'ah noble effort, Klinger"

Trapper quips. The screwball Corporal adjusts his red Christian Dior before getting to his high-heeled feet.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get it next time, but right now I need 'tah get out of these heels. My feet are killin' me"

Without skipping a beat, Hawkeye chuckles under his breath and adds.

"I'll gladly trade ya, Klinger"

He gives a sort of incredulous snort, his face nearly breaking into hysterics.

"You wanna wear heels?"

Hearing this little exchange had Radar chuckling amongst himself.

"It can't be anymore uncomfortable than pregnancy"

Suddenly, Sargeant Zale uttered a sharp sigh.

"I'll tell ya what's really uncomfortable. A crap hand" with that, he too bows out.

* * *

Minutes later and the game was winding down to an end. And not a moment too soon, as fatigue seemingly had a vice-grip on the poor Surgeon. Radar was gathering his winnings, when Hot Lips suddenly stumbled into the tent. Drunk off her bumptious blonde ass.

"You see 'dis great man (she slurred slightly whilst blindly throwing an arm over his shoulder) he's..*_hic_*, 'mah baby's daddy"

At that moment, Pierce just wanted the earth to swallow him whole. A drunk Margaret was a rare occasion, and usually never a good thing. This was certainly no exception.

"Ookay, let's get ya back to yer tent, Major"

Trapper states whilst getting up from his chair. A mix of irritation and embarrassment was evident in his words. As he helped Margaret back out the front door. He turns back briefly towards the pregnant surgeon, mouthing the words. "_Be back later_"

Good 'ol Trap. Stepping up to unseemly tasks no one else dare volunteer. The two remaining hear her utter something else, only this is much less, dare they say, coherent. Radar nervously clears his throat.

"I'm sorry about all that, sir. I'm sure she's excited about becoming a mom"

Radar was a rare specimen, indeed. He had an almost childlike innocence, and yet, knew just what to say whenever situations became too adult. Hawkeye gives a low chuckle.

"I know she is, Radar. It's just probably a lot for her to fully process. Ironically enough, it was booze that was responsible for me bein' in this state in the first place"


	10. A Major Problem

It was rather hard to fathom. But the good Doctor was now 36 weeks along. As if the things that were previously just a minor inconvenience, had been cranked up to a thousand. Everything was uncomfortable. His feet, his back, his organs. He had studied medicine for years, until becoming pregnant himself did he truly realize what a physically taxing experience it was for men. How in the Hell did his Dad do it?

"Ow!, You do that again and the _mystery meat _in the mess hall will no longer be a mystery"

Hawkeye frivolously forewarns the rather rowdy fetus, following a hearty kick to his ribs. He could only pray it wouldn't be too much longer until he had his body to himself again. Hearing Trap behind him laugh lightly.

"Hawk, I don't think the kid knows a damn word yer sayin' "

"On the contrary. I think he just suffers from _selective hearing_"

Trapper cocks a brow inquisitively.

"How can ya be so sure its 'ah boy?"

Pierce trudges over to his cot, plopping down with a heavy sigh, as a crooked smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He watches the lightning fast movements of tiny feet, underneath the fabric of his Army green shirt. It was like something straight out of Rocketship X-M. Chuckling to himself.

"Because a girl couldn't possibly have this much kicking power.."

He notices that simultaneously glint in the Captain's eyes. Followed by a hearty laugh.

"Speak for yerself, pal. With mah two girls, it was like housin' Nilton Santos for nine months"

Pierce was just about ready to shut his eyes when Radar flew through the Swamp door. Remaining near the door frame.

"Sirs, we need help! Chopper just landed and the guy looks pretty banged up"

"At least he isn't knocked up, lucky him"

Hawkeye groused, partially joking. Immediately Trap throws up the palms of his hands.

"I don't think so. You ain't in any condition 'tah be haulin' in wounded.."

He motions for Radar to come in further.

"Now, pipsqueak here will keep ya company. I'll come back 'an grab ya for surgery when we got 'im in"

This was, perhaps, the first time Hawkeye Pierce didn't feel the need to argue with his friend's points. He was simply too exhausted and too pregnant to do so. A crossed expression graced the clerk's face.

"Hey! I'm not 'ah pipsqueak"

But before he could turn to give Trapper a piece of his mind, he was gone. It became increasingly obvious to Pierce that the naive, Iowa native was rather ill at ease. He was never one for small talk, or talk at all for that matter. Pierce pats the edge of his cot for him to take a seat. A warm smile making its way onto his face.

"Would ya like a gin, Radar?"

The young clerk simply shook his head. Eyes tracking Peirce's movements, namely, his stomach. Until he was sat down beside him. Radar clears his throat awkwardly.

"Um, sir...I hope this isn't too much to ask. But can I feel the baby?"

Pierce gives a warm smile and chuckles softly.

"Of course. Fair warning, he's full of it"

The clerk laughs inwardly before his hands travel cautiously to land upon the surgeon's stomach.

"Are you sure its a boy, sir?..Woah! Was that him?!"

It amused him that within a matter of milliseconds, the clerk went from questioning the gender to accepting it as fact. And all it took was a kick from the baby.

"It was. It's one of his favorite pastimes"

* * *

This earned an awkward chuckle from Radar. Suddenly, the two hear the door fly open. Only, it wasn't Trapper. It was Frank.

"And just what do you think you're doing, Corporal?"

This said in such a manner, it was a mix of autocratic, and at the same time, derived some sort of amusement from making the clerk jump at his words.

"Uh, no..nothin', sir. I was, uh, just leavin' "

With that, Radar fled the tent. Now, it was just him and Frank. That look, that weaselly, smug demeanor. Something was about to go down, but Hawkeye would hold his ground til the world's end.

"I believe you're in the wrong tent, Frank. The one you want is next-door, labeled "_malpractice_". Better hurry, I think there's a queue"

What happened next wasn't even characteristic of Frank himself. He lunged at Pierce. But before he so much as grazed Hawkeye's arms with his fingertips, Trapper returns.

"The Hell you think yer doin', Frank?!"

McIntyre's voice boomed, grabbing a hold of Burns' shoulders, roughly, before forcefully shoving him out the door. He could hear Pierce's frantic breathing, trying to get his heart rate back under control. Panic-stricken, he makes his way swiftly towards his heavily pregnant friend. A string of questions like a rapid-firing cannon.

"Are ya okay? The baby? He didn't hurt 'im did he?"

Whilst Pierce immensely appreciated Trapper's efforts. It was a tad unnecessary, seeing as nothing physically happened. Although, of course, he'd never admit this. He smiles halfheartedly before a hand travels to rest atop his massive midsection. Finally taking control of his breathing.

"Baby's fine. But I have a feelin' Ferret Face isn't done yet"

Trap does a quick visual sweep before honing his attention back onto the surgeon.

"Hawk, I don't want ya leavin' this tent. Too risky.."

"-Oh, c'mon, Trap.(_Chuckles_) This' Frank Burns we're talkin' about. I would hardly constitute that as 'ah threat"

The hilarity, however, that Pierce found within this drama was quickly extinguished. Firmly, whilst still trying to maintain a level of delicacy. Trapper grabs the Doctor's shoulders. He exhales heavily.

"Hawk, wake up. He tried 'tah go after ya 'tah get to the baby. That's definitely 'ah threat"


	11. All That's Missin'

"Hawk, we hafta go 'tah Henry 'bout this. He coulda hurt the baby, or you"

Trapper attempted to talk some sense into his friend. This wasn't something that could be overlooked. Finally, Pierce conceded. Per-usual, Blake was hunched over his desk, catching up on all the old golf magazines he had yet to read.

"Henry, we'd like 'ah word with ya"

Trapper's voice was somewhat firm to let the Colonel know he meant business. Henry sighs in annoyance.

"What is it, McIntyre?"

Simultaneously licking his index finger to turn a page. Trapper nudged his friend's shoulder as a cue for him to take over. He swallows, somewhat anxiously.

"Henry, you need to do something about Frank. He went after me at the Swamp, 'an if it weren't for Trapper here he could've seriously hurt the baby"

Blake's eyes widened, no longer was the reading material his top priority. He suddenly clears his throat, disbelief washing over him.

"Th..that really is serious. I'll, uh, make sure he is moved from your tent, effective immediately. Then proceed from there"

It wasn't exactly what either of the men envisioned. However, the fact Frank Burns was no longer living beside them in the same tent was a good start. Even better considering it now gave them room to set up a crib and other essential baby supplies. Henry gave a brief half smile.

"So, how's the little Captain doin'?"

Trapper turned away to try and stifle his chuckling. This in turn, earning him a smack from Pierce.

"Well, when he's not using my bladder as a soccer ball. It's all good"

* * *

It seemed so strange to return to the Swamp to see an empty area where Frank's cot used to be. Surely, the next course of action would be court-martial, but ultimately, that decision fell onto Blake and the higher-ups. Hawkeye breathes a sigh of relief and, once again, letting gravity take hold and falls onto his cot. A smile as big as you please plastered across his face.

"You hear that, Trap? (the Captain in turn appears mildly confused)..it's the sweet sound of silence from having Frank Burns banished from our tent"

Trapper lets out a hearty bit of laughter.

"Yeah, I could get use 'tah this"

Just as Trapper was about to fix himself his third martini of the day, Hot Lips rushed through the main door towards Pierce.

"Are you okay? I heard what happened with Frank"

Her words tumbling out in a sort of frenzied panic. He chuckles briefly before trying to get in a sitting position. Even something as simple as that was rather difficult at this stage in his pregnancy.

"Nothin' happened. He's actually been ordered to move to another tent until Henry figures out what to do with him"

Hearing this brought her a sense of ease. With his due date fast approaching, she was like a ball of nerves, but excited nonetheless. She glances around the tent briefly.

"We have to get a crib ordered soon. Can't have the baby sleeping on the ground"

There was a certain glean in Trapper's eye. As if the cogs in his brain were set in motion.

"No need. That's already been taken care of (making his way towards the door, he opens it and shouts) Hey, Radar!"

Hawkeye and Hot Lips look on in confusion. There was no telling what Trap had up his sleeve.

"Here you are, sir. It arrived just a few minutes ago"

Trapper slipped the clerk $5 for his efforts. Though originally this was rather difficult, as Radar refused to take it. However, came around once the subject of comic books were mentioned.

"Thanks Radar"

With that, he hauled the large box inside. The couple still looking on dumbfounded.

"What on Earth is that?"

Margaret finally inquired. Trapper smirked and whipped out his Swiss Army knife to cut away the tape, finally opening the top.

" 'Ah crib. My youngest doesn't need it anymore, figured you could use it"

Something about this ultimate gesture of kindness that turned Hot Lips on. Naturally, of course, she pushed these feelings to the furthest regions of her brain.

"Trap, ya didn't have to do that. Thank you"

Hawkeye smiled. Margaret worked in a quick hug and words of gratitude for the much-needed piece of furniture. Apparently, he and his wife had this in the works for quite some time. Before she could disassemble it and the pieces make their nearly 7,000 mile journey to South Korea. Trapper laughs a bit.

" 'An I don't want ya tryin' to put this together. We can handle it"

Ever since he became pregnant, Trapper became unnecessarily overboard with his _helping_, smothering even. As if Hawkeye hadn't an ounce of independence for himself. He gives a bit of an irritated growl under his breath.

"Trap, I'm pregnant. Not disabled. I think I can handle puttin' together a crib"

The instant the somewhat flippant response left his lips, he regretted it. The Captain's face dropped, as if he and his wife's efforts were suddenly nothing. He gives a brief snort. Before he left the Surgeon to his own devices, Margaret wedged herself in-between to try and defuse the situation.

"I'm sure he didn't mean for it to come out that way. How about he just hands us the nuts and bolts and we still handle putting it up?"

He sat for a moment, as if in deep thought before giving a _"hmm_" in response. A crooked smile was soon pulling at the corners of his mouth, before he and Margaret exchange a sort of jocular handshake.

"'Ight, ya got yerself a deal"

* * *

About ten to fifteen minutes pass before the crib is finally assembled. A beautiful, solid oak. The three smile and clink their martini glasses in triumph. Only, the Surgeon's was filled with orange juice. He takes a sip and looks upon it proudly.

"Now all that's missin' is 4077's little medico"


	12. That's Where The Base Is, Radar!

Two weeks now have passed. Putting Pierce at 38 weeks, and very much ready to drop this kid. Hot Lips was like a caged lion at times, on pins and needles. With Christmas eve right around the corner, the base had created a small betting pool, with the pot growing larger each day. What was it? A wager of when the long-awaited Hawkeye Jr., will make their appearance. As well as, gender, size, and weight. Not everyone was sold on the idea he was having a boy. This included Trapper.

"So, you bet its 'ah girl, huh?"

That classic, charming smirk was hidden behind his surgical mask. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, deepening. As he shoots a look across the O.R. to Trapper.

"Sorry, Hawk. Nothin' personal, gotta lot 'ah money ridin' on it though"

In the midst of Frank's absence, meant more work to be shouldered by at least one of the two Captains, Colonel, and nurses unit. His fate still remained undetermined. Just like the Army to drag their feet, but the upside being he no longer posed a threat to Pierce. Understandably, taking the Captain's delicate condition into consideration, he was more-or-less, exempt the longer surgical hours.

* * *

Afterwards, the Surgeon found himself scrubbing up in the showers tent. Getting over the initial shock of the ice cold water, before it could transition to warm. It was a very welcomed relief to his aching muscles. Even the baby seemed to be enjoying the relaxing temps. He chuckled softly, watching as a tiny foot lashed out from beneath his skin.

It was amusing to him how, before the pregnancy, he was quite the player on base. A different woman every week. But with impending fatherhood looming over, he had settled down considerably. That wasn't to say him and Hot Lips were an item just because they were having a child. Others would see this as quite taboo, since the child was conceived out of wedlock. Then again, the 4077 was no stranger to infidelities and the like.

It felt as though the baby had dropped within the 38th week. An irrefutable heaviness in his pelvis, perhaps the birth was closer than they all had originally thought. He runs a small towel roughly over his face.

Blindly reaching for his fire engine red robe, and slung it on. It was nothing short of a miracle the belt was still able to tie around. But, was rather pushing past its limits. He had just opened the door, starting his trek back to the Swamp, when a familiar voice called out from a nearby bush.

"_Psst_..Pierce!"

If it wasn't for the fact he had abstained from alcohol over these past nine months, he could've sworn he was drunk and hearing things. His curiosity perked, he went to investigate. A brow cocked.

"Frank?"

The Captain's voice a mix of intrigue and amusement. Within the blink of an eye, the admonished Major lept out from the shrubbery. His Army fatigues tattered and dirty, his cap elsewhere. It appeared as though he had escaped a POW camp. Perhaps he had, Pierce couldn't help but give a hearty laugh at this. How did he end up there? How long was he waiting there? How did he sneak past everyone without them seeing? It took several moments for Frank to catch his breath, and gather himself.

"Listen, Pierce. I just wanna say how sorry I am about the Swamp incident..they have me doin' grunt work on a neighboring base, like, nine miles out. Its like Gulag. And that's before even reachin' a verdict!"

As much as he loathed the little weasel, even this was a bit too much. Then again, Frank Burns was no stranger to embellishments. However, if the base discovered he had escaped and was in contact with the very Surgeon he was supposed to stay away from, Gulag would probably seem like a holiday. Pierce couldn't help but laugh once more.

This could very well turn out to work in his favor. One call to the base that the Major was "killed" by sniper fire, and he was home-free. In exchange, for the remainder of the pregnancy, Burns would be his own personal Moose. There was just the little matter of dealing with Henry and everyone else. However, seeing as he initiated a course of action, he figured he could just as easily retract it. He smirks.

"Tell ya what, Frank. I'll have Radar contact the base. As far as they're concerned, you're now deceased. (The Major's eyes widened, visibly unsettled by this. Pierce chuckles) but, there's a ca-"

"-Anything! Just name it!"

He blurted out, cutting the Captain off. Just watching him all panic-stricken and squirming was truly something to be relished.

"For the remainder of the pregnancy. You're to do everything I ask"

His expression swiftly morphed to disappointment. An infantile, whiny outburst bubbling beneath the surface. If he had a functioning brain cell, he'd be wise not to contest this. But, as with Frank's nature, of course, he was not onboard with this arrangement. Pierce hears him give an indignant scoff.

"Okay, Frank. I'll simply have Radar tell the base they have a deserter on their hands..is that be-"

"-Fine, fine! You win, Pierce!"

That satisfied smirk returned to the Captain's lips.

"Good"

* * *

He gives Frank orders to stay put, whilst he tracked down the clerk. The awkward Corporal peered up at Pierce, the confusion and general _"What the_ Hell?," was obvious. Clunky, black headphones framing his rounded face. The young man swallows nervously.

"Um, sir...why are you in your robe? 'An why am I callin' the base in, uh, where was that place, again?"

"Galmae-Dong"

As to be predicted. Radar instantly starts snickering

"I'm sorry, sir. But, that's a bit inappropriate"

Pierce rolls his eyes. But he'd be a hypocrite if he said, he too, never laughed at this.

"That's where the base is, Radar!"


	13. Fetch Me My Paper

"Oh, Frank. Be a dear 'an fetch me my newspaper"

Despite orders of separate tents, just having Burns wait on him hand & foot was certainly worth any unfavorable outcome that may blow his way. Not even both Korea's could wipe that satisfied, irksome smirk from Pierce's face. Frank's return to base, surprisingly, didn't change matters. Then again, Henry wasn't exactly the ambitious type when it came to following through on complaints further than he had to. As long as there were no upsets, things were on the up and up. Frank swiftly flashes a death glare.

"I'm not your "dear", buddy. Fetch your own pap-"

"-Nuh-uh-uh, Frank (He accentuates this with a wagging finger) Remember our deal? Not until the end of the pregnancy"

The Major let out an exaggerated, loud sigh. Snatching the rolled up paper off the far table and thrusting it in Hawkeye's hand. His nostrils momentarily flaring as he gave a sniff, almost like pondering on what stupid thing he should say next. A sparse brow raises, as he walks away.

"So when you havin' that thing anyway?"

Just like Frank to jump from the frying pan into the fire. But to be fair, his own childhood wasn't exactly painted with rainbows and puppies.

"I'll kindly have you retract calling my child a "thing". After all, remember who the mother is"

His thin lips purse in frustration. Hell, at this point, the base he escaped from wasn't looking half bad. Burns gives a low grumble.

"Ugh..sorry, look. I hafta check on a patient. So, unless there's anything else, I'm lea-"

"-Glad you asked. My feet are killin' me (propping his bare feet on a small crate, like an ottoman). Time to put those surgeon hands to use, Frank"

* * *

"I just can't imagine Frank rubbin' yer feet"

Trapper burst into laughter. Hawkeye brings his martini glass of orange juice to his lips and takes a sip.

"Believe it, pal. The man has magic hands"

Back at Blake's office. The eccentric, cross-dressing Corporal took advantage of Hawkeye's condition. Hoping, he too, could claim the head nurse knocked him up. Thereby, securing his Section 8 discharge, or, at least he thought.

"Sir, I need to get this off my chest. Nurse Houlihan's insatiable. After she did the deed with Captain Pierce, (tone switches to feign dramatics)..she..defiled me as well"

Henry looks on, completely unamused. Rolling his eyes, as Klinger proceeds in throwing open his long, black coat in a grandiose manner, similar to his tone. To reveal what was nothing more than a large pillow, jammed up underneath his black & white spotted frock. Henry lets out an exasperated sigh.

"For Pete's sake, Klinger. For one, you're obviously not pregnant. 'An for two, women can't get pregnant"

The Corporal swiftly wraps the coat back around him, a dramatic gasp soon follows.

"Sir, I am outraged. How dare you speak of Maxwell Quinton-Hakim-Aatazaz Klinger Jr. that way!"

Henry groans and makes his way over to the liquor cabinet. Pouring himself the stiffest drink possible. It was any wonder he wasn't an alcoholic, with all the asinine nonsense he had to deal with on a daily basis. He takes a large gulp, finally deciding to drop the unfortunate news to Klinger.

"Hate to tell ya this, Klinger. But, like I told Pierce. Pregnancy isn't a clincher to be sent home"

He raises his large-beaked nose in the air and gives an indignant huff, turning high-heel and leaving. Just as he reached the doors, the pillow lost its hold and fell between his pronounced, hairy legs. Yet again, Klinger gasps. Henry, meanwhile, taking another large slug. The Corporal now getting into the theatrics, gently lifting the pink embroidered pillow, wiping away the fake tears with his white gloved hand.

"Sir..it..its a girl!"

* * *

Trap and Hawkeye return to the Swamp, absolutely exhausted. Of course, Pierce's duties were lightened. He'd put in a couple hours before sitting out for a few, then, resume. He didn't even have the energy to summon his errand boy. Which was a shame, both the Surgeons would benefit from someone else doing their bidding.

Trapper takes a sip from his martini glass and glances across the tent to the crib. He smiles.

"Ya have any names picked out yet?"

Pierce was stretched across his cot. Eyes lazily observing every little movement his son made. Suddenly, his entire stomach shifted. It was as much bizarre as it were awe-inspiring. He exhales rather shakily, between chuckling. His hand immediately landing on the area where the baby had moved. How he even had the room to do so, Hawkeye would never know.

"I'm thinkin' either Paul or..if it is a girl..Paula Bunyan"

Trap laughs from behind his martini glass, and takes another sip.

"Hey, one Helluva lumberjack, that guy"

Suddenly, the Captain's whipping boy appears. Much to Trapper's displeasure. He mutters under his breath, "_an here comes the lumber_ jackass."

"Pierce, here's those chocolates you were whinin' about earlier"

Chucking a clear bag of sweets and it landing in the crook of the Captain's arm. Trapper, ever vigilant, not taking his eyes off the little weasel.

"Thank you, Frank. (He pops a chocolate into his mouth) You're free to go now"

Frank scoffs like a spoiled child and departs. Trapper refills his glass, settling down in the chair next to Pierce.

"Gotta say, Hawk. I don't think I'm too keen on havin' him back here"

He laments, taking yet another sip. The Surgeon smirks, fishing around the bag for another chocolatey piece of heaven, then replies.

"I know, Trap. But he's still in 'ah separate tent, plus! Even he knows not to try anything. 'An if he does, the next place he winds up will make Galmae-Dong look like a daycare"


	14. The Birth

**And for the moment we've been waiting for! The Birth!**

* * *

To put it mildly, Hell week had rained down upon the surgeons of the 4077, and things were getting down to the wire. Or, more specifically, Hawkeye's pregnancy. Christmas eve had finally arrived. However, the base wasn't entirely certain it was the only arrival of the week. It seemed the good Doctor could possibly drop any day now. The chilly base collectively cringe, as Radar's introverted voice echoed throughout the grounds.

"Numerous wounded! All Doctors report immediately!"

Pierce sits at the edge of his cot. Momentarily steering his focus on deep inhales and exhales. A heaviness in his pelvis, it felt as though he could barely move. Well, waddle as it were, today marked 40 weeks. Trapper takes notice, an expression of deep concern blanketing his face.

"You alright, Hawk?"

His words inadvertently falling flat, whilst his mind was a whirlwind. His sturdy hands reaching for the Captain's arm in a hopeful attempt to get him to his swollen feet. Both knew he wasn't in any kind of condition to be operating, unfortunately, the war wasn't perturbed with an impending birth. Pierce draws in his lips, almost as if in pain, but choosing to remain mum. Simply nodding in response.

"Alrighty, let's get to it"

A light chuckle in his voice, with any luck a weak diversion from the poor Surgeon's current internal warfare. Of course, he wasn't the only one with babies on the brain. Hot Lips' anxiety was through the roof. Just as the pair make their way to the door, Margaret rushes in.

"I tried tellin' Colonel Blake I didn't want you operating, but he woul-"

"Margaret, it's fine (his tone bordering on annoyance), plus, I made the kid pinky-swear he'll wait 'til after surgery to meet us"

He smirked. She flashes a crooked smile before giving a light snort in response.

"Fine. But if he goes back on his promise, I'll be right there. Reminding you that, "I told you so"

* * *

This particular string of injuries, it was as if the surgical staff had leveled up, were being tested. That the previous were nothing more than butcher shop Vaudeville. This was the big leagues, now. Pierce found his mind beginning to wander.

Perhaps, subconsciously, this was a diversion mechanism. Focus on something else, momentarily, so was not having to face the carnage that awaited him. He suddenly feels the presence of a delicate hand on his back. His heart nearly skipping a beat.

"It's okay, only me"

Came Hot Lips' calming voice from behind him. He gives a small smile, holding out his hands in preparation for her to slip on his gloves.

"Why, thank you, mom"

Once inside, you were lucky if you still remembered your own name. Blood and IV bags being passed around like Hot Potato. He quickly ties on his surgical mask, simultaneously turning to Hot Lips.

"Well, lets get 'tah work"

* * *

Patient, by patient, they powered through. During an examination of his third, did he start to feel a bit _off_. This, of course, didn't get past Trapper's keen sense of observation.

"Ya still doin' alright, Hawk?"

He could feel the sweat seep out from underneath his cap. Taking a couple deep breaths. Hoping soon it would pass.

"Yeah, fine. Someone hand me that scalpel"

To everyone else, this may have seemed like he was being somewhat laconic towards his friend. When, in reality, he just wanted to take his mind off the unpleasantness and questioning. Not only that, He didn't feel like Hot Lips catching wind and running over to ask what was wrong. Despite Frank still within his verbal agreement of Moose duty. He apparently was a glutton for punishment.

"I'm shocked you can still see what tools you need for others to grab, _ha_!"

"Frank!"

Came Margaret's chastising tone. Immediately, the rodent-resembling surgeon reverted back to his true momma's-boy demeanor. Regardless of how many times he checked the time on the clock, he still lost track of exactly how much of it had actually passed. Just as he was about to suture up the final section on his patient, a sharp pain hit Pierce like a freight train. His needle driver falling to the floor. This is immediately followed by the splashing sounds of amniotic fluid.

"Hawk!"

Trapper's panicked cries rang out. He rushes over to the Surgeon, Pierce's hands rushing to cradle his gravid stomach. Like a chain of dominoes, Hot Lips swiftly joins the two. "Take over", she yells to her nurse staff. Even despite this, Frank chimes in with his odd, giddy cadence. Whilst holding a pair of forceps.

"So, I guess this means I'm no longer your Moose?"

Pierce shoots the spineless hack a death glare.

"Yes, Frank. But you're still a ferret"

In unison. Trapper and Hot Lips light into him.

"Shut up, Frank!"

* * *

Trapper dashes over to where Colonel Blake stood, informing him of what was unfolding. His eyes widen, damn near missing a collision with a poor nurse's face with his elbow, as he swiftly turned to face him. Henry in panic mode was even more bumbling, everyone within inadvertent striking range would be wise to steer clear. His voice, even when blanketed behind his surgical mask, lit up.

"Well Jiminy Cricket, we're havin' a baby!"

The 4077 was fortunate enough to have the aid of temp surgeons. Even despite the room being flooded with wounded soldiers, they somehow managed to rustle up a surgical table. If there wasn't risk of cross contamination, they would be moving Pierce to the post-op area to accommodate an already cramped O.R.

Hawkeye tries to focus on his breathing. Hot Lips right by his side. They quickly change him into a surgical gown and get him on the table. She smiles down at him, brushing away a few strands of sweat dampened black hair.

"I can't believe we're finally having a baby"

She gushed. Even though this wasn't something that was planned. It would be a bold-faced lie to say the pair weren't looking forward to parenthood. To abide by Pierce's wishes, he would be receiving an epidural. Him and Hot Lips both agreed they wanted the birth to be natural. Trapper joins them on the opposite side and gives a quick run-through to the expectant couple, well, Hawkeye mainly.

"Alright, pal. Just like ya requested, we're gonna give ya an epidural. Its not gonna hurt the baby, just help ya with the pain"

He attempts to give a small smile, until another unforgiving contraction tore through. He grits his teeth. Trapper then motions to Henry with a sharp whistle.

"Needle now!"

Henry rushes over to where the Captain stood, they ease Pierce onto his side. Trapper gently massages Povidone-iodine with a cotton pad to the administration area near the small of his back, at the spine's base. He was thankful they could still administer it, seeing as his labor was not yet too advanced. Suddenly, he felt a sharp prick, as an odd, cooling sensation started spreading throughout.

"You're doing great"

Margaret spoke softly, her hand migrating over towards his and gingerly overlapping it. Once again, he gives a small smile. Thankfully this time, however, he wasn't disrupted with writhing pain. He chuckles softly.

"I know I am. 'An I expect an even greater martini when this' all over with"

God, how he missed drinking. Nine months was much too long of a dry spell. Only issue with this being, he had to learn to rebuild his tolerance. Otherwise he'd be falling flat on his ass. Suddenly, feeling an enormous spread of pressure in his pelvic region. Trap and Margaret still in their places. Henry positions himself at the end of the table.

"K, Pierce. When I say so, I'm gonna have ya push, alright?"

The Captain wearily nods his head. Between the lengthy surgeries and going into labor, he was dumbstruck as to how he was still coherent.

"Alright...push!"

He instructs, with a glint in his voice. Everyone, not just the parents, were rather eager awaiting the arrival. As soon as Pierce clenched his teeth and bore down, Radar opens the doors. Holding a surgical mask over his face.

"Uh, sir, I just..Holy moly! The baby's comin'?!"

His voice a mix of surprise, anticipation and its usual awkward inflection. Blake gives an exasperated sigh.

"Yes, Radar. An we're kinda busy here. Come back in a bit"

The clerk pushes his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and swallows a gulp of air nervously.

"Uh, yes sir"

With that he swiftly departs back out the main doors. Another wave of pressure and dull pain overtake him.

"C'mon, gimme another push..easy now"

Margaret's hold tightens. Trap pats his friend's arm for support. Again, he bears down, concentrating on his muscles to do their job and hasten the baby's journey. Suddenly, Henry announces with somewhat of an elated tone.

"I can see the head! Almost there, Pierce!"

Nothing could wipe that silly grin off Trapper's face. The excitement of impending motherhood even had Hot Lips giving her baby's father a peck on the cheek. Had he not been so preoccupied with giving birth, he had half a mind to respond with something risqué.

* * *

The poor, exhausted surgeon didn't think he had any energy left to give. Again, Trapper pats his arm.

"You can do this, pal"

Margaret's hand migrates up towards his face and gently strokes his cheek. "I second that", she chuckled softly. Pierce shuts his eyes, trying to tune out all the chaos that surrounded him and gave it one final push. An immediate shrill crying could be heard, filling the O.R. He did it. The baby was here. Joyful tears begin to stream down Hot Lips' face.

"Boy howdy! Ain't she a beaut?"

Henry exclaims proudly. Hawkeye's weary eyes travel onto the Colonel holding a bundle in his arms. But wait, did he just say _"she"_? Trapper instantly bursts into laughter.

"Sorry, pal. But looks like I just won the bet"

"That's enough, McIntyre"

Henry admonished casually. He makes his way over towards the parents. Margaret's eyes lit up as Henry proceeded in handing over the rather boisterous newborn. She gasped, she was so overcome with pride and jubilation that the words got caught in her throat.

"Hawkeye, she's absolutely gorgeous"

Hot Lips beamed. He turns to face her and their daughter. He almost couldn't believe it, he was so sure his intuition wouldn't fail him. But none of that mattered now. He loved her all the same, he smiles.

"Can I see her now?"

Margaret chuckles and proceeds in very gingerly placing their baby girl in his arms.

"Of course. She's yours too"

The instant he set eyes on her, it felt as though his heart was going to burst through his chest. She was the picture of perfect. Soft wisps of jet-black hair, rosy-red cheeks. She finally settled down to soft whimpering. At last, opening her eyes to reveal a stunning baby-blue. He brushes an index finger, ever so tenderly over her sweetly cherubic cheeks. Trying to calm her as best he knew how.

"Hi, baby girl. I'm your daddy, (he gingerly, yet jokingly, shifts the baby in his arms to face Margaret) 'an that gorgeous lady standin' right by us is mommy"

The little girl's face scrunches up and she begins to fuss. Hawkeye lovingly shushes her with a kiss atop her head. She then nestles herself close on his chest. Finally quieting down and falling asleep. Margaret softly chuckles.

"I guess I can say it, now. I told you so"


	15. Well Done, Ferret Face

**Last Chapter! I hope everyone had an amazing Christmas. Please R&R! And thank you to all my readers. Couldn't have done it without you 😊**

* * *

When the Hell had finally lifted, the new parents were able to actually enjoy their time with their newborn daughter. Not that they hadn't before, of course, but now without having their intimate moment interrupted with surgeries and chaos. They were then transferred to the recovery ward.

"8.5 pounds, 20 inches"

Henry announced with that effervescence still present in his voice. Pierce chuckles softly.

"Sorry, pal. Looks like you'll hafta retract that winning bet. You put 7 pounds, 19 inches"

Trapper gives a crooked smile and glances over at the sweet, sleeping baby girl .

"Get 'er in 'ah pair of Klinger's heels 'an maybe run a few laps 'round base (in reaction to both Pierce and Hot Lips' horrified reactions, he immediately throws up the palms of his hands), jokin' of course, Hawk"

He chuckles once again "I figured as much". Just then, Henry motions to the Captain for the two to give the new parents a bit of privacy. Giving a final "congrats" before finally being able to retire back to their own tents. The weary surgeon was ordered to roughly 5 days bed-rest. He would, once again, be transferred back to his tent for much needed recovery and to clear up the recovery bed for another patient.

"I still can't believe we have a daughter"

Margaret said, her tone soft and low. Pierce gingerly strokes those adorably chubby cheeks with the backs of his fingers, and smiles.

"Best Christmas gift I could've ever asked for"

He replies. Hot Lips then seats herself on the bed's edge. Simply encapsulated with the precious life they had created. Suddenly, she spoke.

"She still needs a name"

He knew they had discussed it a couple times in the past. She had skimmed through a baby book, but neither were really sold on what the book had to offer. Hawkeye couldn't help but lightly laugh before switching to complete wiseacre mode.

"Maybe name her after Frank. Ferret Face would appreciate that"

Just then the pair hear a voice enter recovery.

"I'd appreciate what?..so, this' the lil' Kimchi oopsie, huh? Cute"

"**Frank!**"

Margaret's voice inadvertently booms. Herein-by stirring the newborn awake, though amazingly, didn't cry. Immediately, the impetuous surgeon shuts his mouth. Suddenly, the baby starts fussing. This is swiftly followed by Hawkeye, bottle in hand, bringing her back down to a lull. Contently suckling the warm formula.

"What about..Evelyn?"

He rather hesitantly proposed. The couple look at each other, and perhaps for the first time in history. Frank Burns had quite a good suggestion. Suddenly, Margaret turns to the recovering Surgeon, before quietly piping up.

"I like that"

Pierce couldn't believe he was even reasoning with it, but he too, was rather fond of the name suggested. Margaret soon adds.

"And Alana for the middle. After my father"

Frank stood there, quietly observing. Not sure of what would happen next. Hawkeye hands the bottle to Hot Lips to set aside. The pair exchange rather brief, impish glances. Turning their attention to Frank before uttering in unison.

"Well done, Ferret Face"


End file.
